


It's All Been Done Before

by The_Fanfic_Mormon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Science, Established Alphys/Undyne (Undertale), F/F, Hope, Listen it's five years later and people are still sleeping on Undyne and Alphys, Moral Dilemmas, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route - "I want to stay with you.", References to Depression, References to Undertale Genocide Route, Undertale Reset Issues, Undertale Saves and Resets, not everyone is completely miserable, which is surprising if you've read literally anything I've written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29579259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Fanfic_Mormon/pseuds/The_Fanfic_Mormon
Summary: Aren't happy endings great? A race imprisoned for millennia finally gets to set foot on the Surface, all thanks to what seems like the most generous person humankind has to offer. But this has happened before. In fact, liberation seems to be a bit of a repeat phenomena. To compound matters, some monsters have figured this out.A set of vignettes looking into how the main cast of Undertale adapts to knowing that their perfect ending is far from perfect, and even worse, far from permanent.
Relationships: Alphys/Undyne (Undertale)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	It's All Been Done Before

**Author's Note:**

> The writing fever has overtaken me a little, so I'm churning out stuff I intended to write over a year ago . At least I got it down, huh? Anyways, my first foray into Undertale was certainly juvenile. I'm proud of that first chapter and maybe the beginning of the second, but the rest shows a real decline in quality and effort. Regardless, I'm approaching the characters with more realistic goals this time around. There's a similar theme here to my other UT story regarding knowing about resets. I think this concept plays better, and is more conducive to how I want to approach this.  
> Ignore my babbling. Happy reading.

It was beautiful outside. The sun, hovering lazily in the sky, made the day comfortably warm. A cool, gentle breeze prevented anyone from ever getting too hot. The never-ending blue of the sky was occasionally interrupted by a soft cloud slowly plodding its way through the air. All around, birdsong was a constant, as the robins chattered and the humming birds flitted nervously from place to place. The flowers had just begun to bloom, with rhododendrons and bluebells proudly displaying their vivid colors. Children ran about, tossing balls and playing tag and all sorts of other games that children are apt to play on a summer weekend as wonderful as this. Such was the sheer perfection of this day that work had been forsaken by most to just enjoy the time they’d been blessed with. It seemed hardly anyone, human, monster, or otherwise, could have troubles at a time like this.

Toriel had lived through this day seven times. Probably.

Their usual group was out. Alphys and Mettaton were sitting under a tree, enjoying the shade. Sans was lazing on the picnic blanket, caught in a slow conversation with Asgore. Papyrus and Undyne were on the run, sprinting in possibly one of the most intense games of tag she had ever seen. Frisk was on the skeleton’s cloaked shoulders, the lanky monster huffing and puffing as the piscine warrior gave determined chase.

For once, in the four months they’d been on the surface, Toriel let herself relax for a moment. Everyone was happy. And if they were all happy…

Then Frisk would be too.

* * *

The night after the barrier broke gave way to perhaps the largest celebration in the history of the Underground. A hundred thousand monsters, finally free from their dreary prison, let loose for the first time in centuries. In this context “letting loose” meant relaxing on the thinly forested mountainside, gazing in wonder as they finally set their eyes upon real stars.

Toriel had more than enough on her plate. It seemed that in the revelry, planning had been a neglected factor. Temporary settlement needed to be set up. Suitable locations to create said habitations would have to be found. Food distribution, construction, diplomacy, it weighed heavy on her mind even as she allowed herself to feel the joy of her people.

At the momemt, everyone seemed to have brought sheets and pillows from their homes to sleep on. The innkeeper and hotel manager helped distribute spares where needed, while Grillby and Muffet led the charge to make sure all were well fed.

Running her claws through the fur on her head, Toriel silently thanked the initiative everyone possessed. She had, in a moment of pain, abdicated her queenly duties, yet she still remembered the stress of it. Even through all that had happened, some things never change.

And there went the biggest change of all. Frisk. Generosity was baked into their soul. Helping the newly freed Amalgamates adjust, theorizing ways to transport Onionsan out of Waterfall, ferrying supplies up to the Surface… it was as if their every deed was one in service to someone else.

Smiling, she began to walk over to the human, who was trying (and failing) to tell Loren about the nature of stars.

“uh, toriel?” She paused in her stride, turning to see a short skeleton grinning at her.

“Oh, Sans! How wonderful to see you. Have you and your brother gotten acclimated yet?”

He shrugged, motioning with his head for her to walk with him. “paps is still in new home, trying to cook spaghetti for everyone.” A short chuckle escaped him. “some of the mtt chefs are trying to help him. hope he’s not being a _strain_.”

She snorted, slowing in her stride to keep pace with him. “And you? Do not tell me your energy has been wasted purely on puns!”

The pinpricks of light in his eye sockets dimmed slightly, but Sans’ smile didn’t dip an inch. “eh, you know how i am. don’t gotta whole lot to bring. and my bro can handle himself.”

There was something she couldn’t place about Sans. Something deep below the smile and the puns and the wise-guy act. She could not put her finger on it…but it was there.

Without warning, he pulled her aside, clutching her hand with newfound intensity.

“Sans! What is-”

“toriel. listen to me. when the kid goes to sleep, meet me in undyne’s tent. don’t bring this up to anyone.” There was a desperation in his eyes that chilled her. It very much was reminiscent of Asgore after Asriel... passed. A pleading that derives itself from grief over what was lost.

She took a breath, than looked at her friend, eyes full of sympathy.

“If there is anything you want to tell me, I will be there.”

Sans visibly relaxed, shoulders letting down from a hunch she had not realized they were in. His ever-present grin seemed to perk up a little.

“knew i could rely on you. hope i didn’t get your goat.”

Toriel rolled her eyes, chortling as she patted the top of his skull fondly. Her paw was still on his head when the skeleton suddenly teleported away, leaving her staring at the air.

Her smile slowly slipped off her face as she began to walk back towards the campsite.

Maybe she had missed something. People were not usually this discreet around her, especially not Sans. Well, to be accurate… she had never really learned anything meaningful about him. Besides his one familial relationship, what did she truly know? This sudden urge to confess makes her nervous, almost.

And what did Frisk have to do with it?

She opened the newly propped-up tent, peering in to see the human lying sleepily while wrapped in a sheet.

“Hey mom.” They murmured, brown hair spilling over crinkled eyes. A rush of warmth flowed to her face. She flustered for a moment, affection overwhelming her briefly.

“You are looking tired, my child. I think some rest would be wise.” With a ducked head, she inched her way into the tent. Propping herself on her side, she reached over and gave a soft kiss to their cheek.

“Mmmm pr’oly.” Frisk managed to get out, exhaustion forcing their eyes to shut more and more.

“I will be going to my own tent, seeing as I might be a little too big for this one… Frisk?”

They had fallen asleep, mouth half-open with a small snore sounding off. There was a satisfaction, a sense of motherly affection that for so long she had tried to recapture since Asriel, only now having it last. It is almost ridiculous, she thought, that she ever tried to shy away from being a parent. It seemed to suite her too well. Crawling out of the tent, she stood, and surveyed the grounds to find the captain’s tent.

She began walking towards what looked like a large command tent, with a blue scale pattern printed on its sides. Surely, this is a design Undyne would gravitate towards. Lying to Frisk was necessary. For her friend’s sake. An acerbic part of her sniped that this would hardly be the first time she’d convinced herself of that. Toriel flinched, eyes closing briefly in bitter acknowledgement before entering the rather large tent.

It was sparse. A mattress with two pillows and a single blanket lay in the corner, while most of the tent was taken up by a wooden table and a set of chairs. Curiously, the table’s center was held together by all manner of tapes, from duct to craft. Perhaps it was best not to ask.

Unsurprisingly, Alphys was there, still wearing a slightly grimy lab coat and looking very much skittish. The skeleton brothers were conversing, it seemed, although really it looked more as if Papyrus was ranting to a sleeping Sans. Mettaton, humming to one of his own tunes, was a surprise. As was the presence of Asgore. Upon her entering, he had suddenly become nervous, and she silenced her momentary pity to send a characteristic glare towards him.

The first clue that something was clearly wrong could be found in Alphys’ apparent anxiety, one that was far more than usually displayed in the short time Toriel had interacted with her. The second, far more obvious, indicator that something was off was the captain herself.

Undyne was, quite uncharacteristically, completely quiet. Her face contained no hint of emotion, her single eye staring off into space. She gave off the feeling of almost complete placation, although combined with Sans’ request earlier, Toriel was certain that there was more to this.

The tent went silent, as she sat down in the only remaining chair before glancing expectantly at the napping skeleton.

Without missing a beat, his eyes snapped open, and he leaned forward with surprising graveness.

“well. you’re all here. glad to see you didn’t think i was _ribbin_ ’ you.”

The pun lacked any comedic inflection, and the omnipresent grin sagged in a way that was seriously disturbing. Even Papyrus looked concerned, turning to his brother in a moment of obvious concern.

“yeah. fine. no jokes. that’s fair.”

“If I may ask why I was summoned to what is turning out to be a quite dreary gathering…” Mettaton sighed, metallic fingers drumming rhythmically against wood. She didn’t say anything, but she wished for the same information, albeit without asking in such a rude way.

“Just SHUT it, and listen to him.” Undyne growled, piercing gaze suddenly directed at the robot. Mettoton shifted uncomfortably, but stayed silent. The entire table now seemed shocked. Toriel could not help but think the seriousness of the warrior is a little unprecedented.

Sans let out a breath, clearly still distressed. “i’m gonna tell you guys something. it needs to stay between us.”

Toriel tensed up. Whatever he had to say, perhaps he’d already said to Undyne and Alphys. How personal was this?

“i could let alphys go on for ages about determination, but i’ll ask her for a quick rundown.” He motioned to the scientist with a lazy gesture. Alphys jolted a little, but quickly cleared her throat. She was confused, though. What did determination have to do with much of anything?

“S-so essentially d-determination is the quality t-that human souls have that a-allows them to persist after d-death.” The scientist stammered out, wiping away the sheen of sweat that had accumulated on her crest. Undyne’s stone-cold face broke a little with sympathy, and she placed her hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“In s-sufficient quantities, determination c-can override time and space itself. A p-particularly determined human can, um, s-save, so to speak. In particular m-moments, where determination is at a peak, fractal distortions that manif-” She paused, glancing around at the confused faces. “S-sorry. Um, well, b-basically it means that a human c-could travel back to that moment of d-determination. The world would reset.”

The implication hit Toriel like a brick. “You are not seriously implying that humans possess such power?” she asked incredulously, leaning forwards. Such a thing, if it were true, had horrifying implications. The war… gods, how long had the war lasted? How could they have ever hoped to survive much less _win_ against such an ability.

Sans held up a hand. “toriel. please, just listen.” He sagged a little in his chair. “i’ve lived this before. we’ve gotten to the surface seven times, give or take. maybe more. resets tend to make my memory hazy. and the kiddo ain’t revealing much.”

A bolt of tension leapt through the room. Toriel’s mouth fell open, trying to say something. But words would not come. The very idea of it is downright impossible to grasp! Living multiple lives, doomed to repeat the same thing over and over at Frisk’s whim… she can barely even grapple with the thought. “Th-that is impossible!” Asgore exclaims, a furry fist pounding the already-punished table. “Why would Frisk ever bother to ‘reset’ in the first place? What would compel them to do so?”

“I’M SURE SANS MUST BE MISTAKEN! FRISK IS OUR FRIEND! TO UTILIZE SUCH A POWER WOULD BE A MASSIVE BETRAYAL OF TRUST!” Papyrus proudly declared. “MY TRUST IS STURDY, AND UNBREAKABLE, UNABLE TO BE BETRAYED BY ITS SHEER DURABILITY!”

She couldn’t help but agree. The human child was brimming with kindness. Sans _must_ have been mistaken, with such a radical implication. She didn’t contest the doctor’s theory. Toriel won’t claim to be have any such knowledge. But to rip friends and family away from such a happy ending over and over? To associate such an action with Frisk seemed impossible.

Sans chuckled a bit, but his face slackened as he reached under his seat to grab a file. With little enthusiasm, he chucked it on the table. Papyrus reached over to grab one of the slips that had slid put, while Undyne passed the rest around.

Mettaton suddenly gasped, his need for drama adding to genuine shock. Toriel looked around the room, seeing the horrified reactions of her peers. There is nothing her mind can create that could possibly elicit those reactions. Asgore passed one to her suddenly to her suddenly. His face was twisted in pain, eyes for 

She hesitantly took the slip, swallowing heavily before turning it over. It was actually a photo, and her paws began to tremble as she saw what its contents were.

Them. It was all of them. Everyone present at the table, standing in a grassy field, plus Frisk. There were smiles on everyone’s faces. She had _never_ been within such a photo. A sense of disorientation hit her, and she had to place the photo down on the table to avoid the headache it brought.

The next picture that made its way to her was the same. All of them together, grinning happily at the camera. But there were _differences_. In poses, in clothing, minute little details that indicated that something wasn’t the same. She looked at the next. And the next. All of them were the same photo, with faint variations across all of them.

Her mind could barely handle what it was seeing. She had had other lives, chunks of time ripped away from her. By her child. By the one who had been so generous to them all.

Tears ran, hard and fast. She pushed the pictures away as the sobs racked her body. This was just how many times they’d actually _made_ it to the Surface. How many times had she greeted Frisk in the ruins? Was this what her life was consigned to, endlessly reliving the same events, never to know a new experience? 

With blurry vision, she observed Papyrus stare forlornly at the photo he held, skull occasionally glancing to the file as if to make sure what he saw was accurate. “NO…” he muttered, nearly imperceptible. Shuddering, she reached up and wiped the tears away.

“O-oh my.” Mettaton stuttered, fingers fidgeting nervously on the table. “What is the purpose of showing us these pictures?”

Undyne spoke up, fiddling with her fiery ponytail the whole time. “We’re closest to them. This information is vital in understanding our life from now on. Sans has a, well, a crappy sort of idea.”

“i can’t exactly speak to their motivations for resetting, but there is a thing we could try.” His eye sockets dimmed a little, much to her disturbance. “appease ‘em. make the kid happy and satisfied for as long as we can. the only thing we can do is not give them a reason to reset.”

“Is placation our sole option?” Asgore asked. He looked shattered. The king always did show his feelings blatantly, although she could hardly blame him for being this shocked. As if everyone here wasn’t.

“I-I’m afraid so.” Alphys responded bluntly. “I don’t k-know a way to stop them. If we mention that w-we know, or try to do something, c-chances are we’ll end up back where we started-”

“-And with no memory of this timeline ever happening.” Toriel finished as the full ramifications hit her. They were stuck. The rest of the conceivable future began to look grimmer by the moment. Every waking moment stuck pleasing Frisk in a desperate ploy to prevent them from being wrenched to the past. Her misplaced love for a child that had saved them all would die. And in its place, fear and tragedy.

“BUT…AREN’T THEY OUR FRIEND? THEY WERE NOTHING BUT DIPLOMATIC ON THEIR JOURNEY. WHY WOULDN’T WE BE ABLE TO GET TALK TO THEM?” Papyrus sounded as if his soul had been crushed. She perhaps felt the most for him. He was new to friendships outside of his brother and Undyne, she had learned. To make such an important connection only to have it torn to shambles, Toriel cannot imagine.

Mettaton seemed to get it immediately. “Because they’d feel guilty, one should think, based on the supposed constitution of our little human’s character. Having everyone know would ruin the perfect ending.” The robot went quiet, and she understood the dreariness that entered his voice. How 

“THEN…THEN FRISK WOULD RESET AGAIN.” Papyrus connected the dots. He sniffled a little, prompting Sans to reach over and grasp his hand tightly.

“So this is our future.” She breathed, resting her forehead in her hands.

A sad sense of resignation passed around the room. Undyne stood up, anger and misery battling to make themselves known.

“We can’t screw up,” she growled out “or we’ll be coming up here for an eighth time. Our people must ” Toriel can’t help but wonder if this isn’t the first time this has happened. Almost immediately, a nauseating sense of déjà vu hits her. Her brain churns out increasingly more nightmarish thoughts, threading stray memories together into something that makes a disturbing amount of sense.

Undyne dismissed them and she stumbled outside, so lost in her own mind that she can barely remember the walk back to her own tent. She mutters thanks to the Loox that set it up then slumped inside, not bothering to lay out her bedding.

She’d remarked upon seeing them that it had felt like meeting an old friend for the first time. She guessed their preferred pie flavor, that information rising to her awareness with ease. She just had a _feeling_.

But there were other times too. When Toriel had brought the human into her house, a nervousness had seized her, a hand grasping her soul. She’d been quick to shepherd Frisk into what was supposed to be their room, some seemingly irrational thought gnawing at her mind of them fleeing to the cruelties that awaited in the world that followed.

And when she faced them down at the gate she intended to destroy, Toriel’s fire had stuttered for a moment as a sense of timelessness washed over her. That single second had felt like an eternity, and only the determined look on Frisk’s face had made the sensation vanish. She’d thought nothing of it afterwards, but now those events, taken in context, were comprehensible within a larger and very disturbing framework.

She involuntarily shuddered, fur standing straight on end. Closing her eyes was unthinkable. Instead, the ceiling of the tent commanded her gaze as she stared into nothing.

This is why she ran away. Too much grief, too much endless responsibility hopelessly intertwined with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. That seemed to be the one constant in her life.

Every chance at happiness was always ruined somehow.


End file.
